My life in some ways has been blighted by a propensity to take things literally. It happened again just yesterday when my wife said, “While you’re out don’t forget to buy that Victorian Ceiling Rose will you?”
I was minded to ask, ‘What Victorian Ceiling Rose’ yet thought the better of it. “Of course dear…I won’t be long…catch you in a bit.”
Plainly even a fool like me is aware that there are many, many types of woody perennials of the genus Rosa yet in all truth I had never heard of the Victorian Ceiling variety. Still as I made my way to the garden centre I felt sure that the nice (well very nice if the truth be told) gal who works there would point me in the right direction.
“I say young lady I see you have many varieties of rose in stock from climbing versions to shrub roses, hybrids and even miniature ones yet I cannot spot the Victorian Climbing Rose my wife has sent me on a mission to purchase. Could you point me in the right direction please?”
“Certainly Sir…may I suggest you pop along to the builders merchants up the road, they have them.”
“The builders merchants are stocking flowers now are they…bet you’re not too keen on the competition?”
“Sir a Ceiling Rose is but a decorative plaster moulding affixed to the ceiling from which a chandelier or light fitting is often suspended…not a flower!”
Obviously I felt rather embarrassed and took of my leave in an instant. £65 later I returned home with the Victorian Ceiling Rose. All was well.
However this event (a true story by the way) reminded me a similar misunderstanding twixt my youngest son and I a few years ago when he was likely 15 or 16 years old. You see he also takes things literally!
MY SON WHO TAKES THINGS LITERALLY & THE FOOD WASTE
To my son who takes things literally
Unto him I did once say
“Could you be a good chap
And recycle our waste today?
All you have to do son
Is chuck it out the front”
I presumed he knew that the bin was there
For in the affirmative he did grunt
Yet to my great horror
I spotted the lad outside
Emptying our food waste
About the lawn and on the drive
Outside a gale was howling
Around our hilltop home
And peelings of potato
And such like they were blown
Far and wide all down the street
In truth such was the mess
That I was fearful of litigation
And in a state of some distress
“Why did you do that?” I enquired
“Do what?” he said, quite blunt
And anyway he added
“You told me to ‘chuck’ it out the front!”
And thus it was I turned to
St John’s Wort to help me cope
And contemplate the point
Is there any fucking hope?
I have previously posted this particular verse a couple of years ago when I first commenced this blogging malarkey.